


in the hands of midnight

by coppertears



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, M/M, Pining, Travel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 05:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7155977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppertears/pseuds/coppertears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he books a flight to seoul on a whim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the hands of midnight

  
**in the hands of midnight**  
chanyeol/baekhyun  
pg-13  
w: unbeta'd  


he books a flight to seoul on a whim.

the terminal’s filled with souls in love with leaving, goodbyes soft yet unyielding on their lips. baekhyun watches cutscenes of farewell play over and over again, and he thinks in his head that there’s never anyone who’s willing to let go. maybe that’s why his phone’s bound and gagged into silence in the front pocket of his bag. he tries to forget that there’s an entire office uninformed and waiting for him to come in, that there’s a cup of coffee steaming on his desk, that it’s his own birthday and his family’s probably planned a surprise for him. he shifts from foot to foot, trying to find an empty seat near his boarding gate.

it’s been ten years since he’s last seen seoul. baekhyun still remembers yelling _why are we leaving_ in a plane where everyone’s asleep and on their way to dreaming, remembers how his mother looks away from the tears climbing down his cheeks. he still doesn’t understand, not now, not ever, and maybe the reason why he’s doing this is because he wants an answer. there are questions running thick and fast through his mind, questions that have been avoided and lost and thrown away, questions that surge up now as the call for boarding resounds all around him.

his boarding pass sits cold and sweaty in his palm. baekhyun turns it over and absorbs the flight details staring up at him, searching for a reason to stay. there’s none. he stands up, nostalgia weighing him down more than usual, and he makes his way to the end of the line growing impatient in front of the gate.

outside he sees airplanes taking off. baekhyun watches them rise one by one, bulky bodies cutting through air, and he wishes his arms were wings. perhaps then escape will come easy.

his eyes stay open even after take-off.

 

 

 

 

the thing about traveling is that baekhyun’s done far too much of it. he’s done it in doses that last weeks, and in half-measures that last two days or three if he’s lucky. but he plans each trip at least several days beforehand, pinning down destinations with thumbtacks that glimmer golden under the fluorescent lights, and it’s always his secretary who books his hotels and his plane. 

today’s the exception. today is when baekhyun walks down the ramp with only his backpack hanging from his shoulders and nothing more, and he has no idea where he’s going to stay. he has at least 35 relatives listed as contacts in his phone but baekhyun has no desire to see any of them. instead he snags a tourist guide and sets out with korean won lining the pockets of his bag. his tongue’s become too used to english, but if baekhyun tries hard enough to remember, his mother tongue comes back to him in waves. it’s not much use, though, because he cages his lips in silence as he watches the city streets flicker into miles and miles of distance.

he’s never been good at finding his way, but familiarity seeps into his veins.

the cabbie takes him to myeongdong where the foot traffic’s more than what baekhyun expects it to be. he lets the crowd tug him through the place, disinterested eyes scanning the products on display. once or twice he enters a shop and runs gentle fingers over fabrics. he stops by sidewalk vendors and examines an array of eclectic products that make him smile. 

he doesn’t want to keep anything and so he continues letting himself be pulled away.

a solid hour’s passed and he lets faces swirl past him, trying to decide if he’s moving on or staying to eat here, when a body presses its warmth against his arm. baekhyun glances to the side -- and then he’s forced to look up, up, up, into the eyes of a stranger who is much taller than he is.

except this face resonates in his memories and he blinks, because if he’s right then this person is no stranger. not at all.

 

 

 

 

he’s sitting on the cold wooden bleachers, snuggling deep into the thick wool of his scarf. 16? 17? he’s not quite sure. it gets harder to focus on the details the older the memory is, and this one’s painted in light watercolor hues that bleed too much and crackle with static left to linger. he’s waiting for something, someone, he doesn’t know what. he never does.

bowed legs fill three-quarters of his vision. a smile splits the person’s face in unequal halves. baekhyun lifts up his hand and gives a wave; it’s unnecessary in this proximity. his fingers flutter. his skin is the same color as gnawed bone. 

“what is it?” he asks the new arrival. he resists the urge to pull him even closer, to reduce the space between them into nothing but hot breaths and fragile eyelashes. 

the boy says nothing. instead, calloused palms cup baekhyun’s face and baekhyun forgets that inhalation of air is needed in order to replace the oxygen he’s just turned to carbon dioxide. he forgets about the meaning of the word _distance_. he forgets the terms and conditions of being someone’s friend.

chanyeol kisses him, his lips chapped and covered in peppermint stains that leave a burst of chilly freshness on baekhyun’s tongue. the kiss is soft and hard and tame and forced all at once, a hundred sensations overcrowding baekhyun’s mind as he kisses chanyeol back, and he lets himself believe.

“what was that for?” he whispers when chanyeol pulls away. he watches the taller boy’s elfish ears turn red despite the falling snow. baekhyun is 16, 17 -- he doesn’t know which -- and he lets hope crawl into his chest.

“a dare,” is what chanyeol says, and baekhyun can still see the careless grin that lights up the younger guy’s face. “sorry, gonna go back to jongin and luhan now.”

chanyeol turns, snowflakes dusting his head. baekhyun watches him go. the snow is inches thick and the sun is a frigid red before he stands up with half of a broken heart imprisoned behind his ribs. 

he is only a dare.

 

 

 

 

right now, looking up at chanyeol, baekhyun knows he’s more than just a dare. still he can’t help feeling small like he always does when he stands right beside chanyeol, like his body wants to be folded up and stuck inside a box and kept in the very back of the closet.

chanyeol blinks, eyes still large and sparkling, elfish ears sticking out from underneath the bowler hat he’s wearing. a long trench coat hangs from his frame. _why_ , baekhyun thinks, _does he look so big?_

“baekhyun,” chanyeol says, a smile forming easily over his lips. “it’s been a long time.”

images flash in baekhyun’s mind. halloween, dressed up as vampires; summer in the midst of a salty breeze; breaks between classes, accompanied by the sound of a guitar playing. there is always a guitar being played.

“yeah,” baekhyun says, thinking of college and the uncomfortable weight of responsibilities. “a long time.”

and just like that, chanyeol throws his arm over baekhyun’s shoulders, pulling him close and steering him through the continuous crush of bodies. “let’s catch up, then,” he says, and there’s no room for protest in his suggestion. not that baekhyun’s got a refusal building up in his gut, anyway. 

“i haven’t eaten yet, though.”

chanyeol’s lips quirk upwards. he murmurs something that sounds like _no wonder you’re still so small_ , but it’s whipped away by the wind before baekhyun’s sure of what he’s heard. “i know a place,” he says, louder this time. 

baekhyun nods and glances at his watch. it’s a quarter past twelve.

 

 

 

 

the day he leaves seoul, baekhyun jolts awake to the sound of his ringtone playing. he reaches for his phone amongst the shadows, the sound of chanyeol’s laughter bouncing off of the walls as his fingers fumble, and he turns to see the digital clock blinking _4:33 AM_ in neon yellow. baekhyun swears under his breath. not only has his best friend tampered with his phone, he’s also calling him so early in the morning.

he contemplates leaving the call unanswered, but he knows chanyeol’s only going to keep calling. baekhyun presses _answer_ and flops back down amongst his pillows.

“where are you going?” chanyeol demands from the other end of line.

“what are you talking about?”

“your mom told my mom that you’re leaving.” chanyeol’s deep voice sounds like there are fine cracks running through it. “she said that you’re leaving _today_.”

baekhyun frowns to himself. “i’m not leaving. why would my mom say that?”

he listens to silence -- or at least, to how much chanyeol’s steady breaths seem a lot like silence even if they are anything but. 

“you don’t know, do you?”

baekhyun sits up. it’s freezing in this room and his blood’s turning to ice, and baekhyun doesn’t know why he always forgets to turn the heater on when it’s three weeks into november. chanyeol’s words confuse him. his family’s never talked about going somewhere, and he hasn’t even been told to pack stuff or given a plane ticket. he’s never been warned about having to say goodbye.

“what don’t i know?” baekhyun hisses, goosebumps forming on his skin. 

“maybe you want to check your closet.”

baekhyun eyes the floor and thinks that he doesn’t particularly want to step on it with bare feet. but he humors chanyeol, knowing that his closet will stay the same. besides, what does chanyeol expect him to find there, anyway?

he tugs open the closet doors and says, “see, it’s --”

baekhyun stares. there are hangers clinging to the rail inside his closet. there are four shelves, and below that, a couple of drawers. his closet’s the same as ever, except for the fact that there are no clothes inside.

he swallows down his alarm. it’s thick, viscous even, and baekhyun tries not to choke on it. “everything’s normal,” he says, and it’s a partial truth. it’s not a lie, not quite.

“it’s empty, isn’t it?” chanyeol asks, his voice lower this time. 

“no, it’s full,” baekhyun says, and he doesn’t notice it but his voice is rising, and there are tears of frustration in his eyes. “it’s _normal_.” he breaks into a brisk walk and wrenches open the door, and he doesn’t hear all the things that chanyeol’s saying because he’s knocking on the door that leads to his parents’ bedroom. it’s nearly five in the morning. five in the morning, and outside the world’s bathed in midnight blue, and baekhyun doesn’t understand what’s happening.

his mother opens the door and there are paper-thin creases on her face, her hair just a tiny bit disheveled. her eyes are bleary at this hour. “what’s the problem, baekhyun?”

“where are we going?” baekhyun asks, trying to keep his tone calm. he hasn’t hung up. on the other end, he knows chanyeol is still listening, still hanging on. 

life seems to rush through his mother, then. she hesitates. “we’re…” she bites her lip and glances back to where baekhyun’s father is probably still wrapped in blankets. “we’re headed to america. our flight’s in a few hours.”

“did you even think of telling me?” baekhyun grits out. his hands are shaking. the phone falls and he barely registers the _call ended_ flashing across the screen. “ _why didn’t you tell me_?”

“because you might have...refused to come with us,” she says. then she adds, in a hurry to get the words out: “i packed your things for you, don’t worry --”

“don’t worry,” baekhyun repeats. “ _don’t worry_? i’m not a child anymore, so why did you think it would be alright to leave me in the dark about this? did you think i’d just get in the car and not question why we’re heading to the airport?”

his mother winces. “we were planning to tell you last night but you went straight to your room.”

“you could have told me a week before!” baekhyun shouts. he ignores the fact that he’s crying, now, he’s crying and anger is bubbling over and it’s unfair. everything’s unfair. “do i even have a choice?”

she shakes her head. “you can’t stay,” she whispers, and she looks so old. “you can’t stay here.”

baekhyun punches the wall.

 

 

 

 

chanyeol tells him that he stands at 185 cm even in his bare feet. he says that he’s working at a software company now, developing apps and dealing with codes and becoming more fluent in algorithms than in korean. he says that he’s missed the way baekhyun’s eyes squeeze into crescents whenever he’s happy about something. his ramen turns cold.

he doesn’t tell baekhyun about dating the famous basketball player, kris wu, something that baekhyun’s learned one day in a business trip to china where he picks up a newspaper and sees his former best friend on the cover. neither does he mention his relationship with renowned model kai -- not even the fact that it’s a mess from the start and, two years later, every article about them is condensed into make-up smears and spilled alcohol and simmering looks. 

baekhyun wonders how he even knows these things.

in turn, he tells chanyeol that he’s never grown an inch taller despite the amount of milk he’s drunk and the number of times he’s jumped when midnight strikes on new year’s eve. he eats the bulgogi he’s ordered and sips water and says that he’s stopped singing a long time ago. across the table, chanyeol’s fingers tap out a nervous rhythm when baekhyun talks about his company and negotiations and business deals and stocks.

he waits for chanyeol to ask about kim junmyeon, the chaebol who pursues him from the eiffel tower to new york’s skyscrapers until baekhyun tells him that they can traverse the entire globe and still they would not work. when chanyeol asks him about hapkido, baekhyun almost blurts out the way sweat rolls down martial artist huang zitao’s neck, his wushu stick slicing through the air and creating more distance between him and baekhyun. 

when chanyeol pays for the meal and leads the way out of the restaurant, still chattering on about how much things have changed, baekhyun doesn’t know why he wants the taller guy to care.

it’s been a decade, after all. even if they recognize each other when they walk through the streets, and still remember each other’s favorite food, and played pranks together when they were still little -- even when chanyeol’s eyes are still the brightest, when his ears stick out in a way that makes baekhyun want to pinch them, it doesn’t mean they’re still the same. that chanyeol’s the same. that baekhyun, after all these years, is the same.

they’re more than different now.

 

 

 

 

it is 3:30 in the afternoon when chanyeol tugs him into the cable car going up to namsan mountain. somewhere amidst the crush of bodies, chanyeol’s arm falls across baekhyun’s shoulders. the minute they arrive at namsan tower, chanyeol runs off to buy something, and baekhyun finds himself staring at an assortment of padlocks hanging on the tower’s fence. 

he thinks it’s strange how people choose to commemorate love. how they struggle to find an appropriate symbol for it -- an object worn at all times, or a song that plays when they kiss, or a secret that rises when they smile at each other from opposite ends of any room. baekhyun thinks he prefers to leave his kind of love unnamed. he wants there to be space and silence; he wants his love to go unnoticed by everyone except the one who matters.

he’s spent too many times loving people who never notice, yet the ones around him can read out loud the length and breadth of his feelings.

“here,” a deep voice says, and baekhyun whips around to find chanyeol placing a padlock in his palm. the taller guy gives him a smile that’s shaky on the edges. “it’s sort of a tradition in this place.”

baekhyun blinks. “but i don’t need it,” he says.

“why not?” chanyeol frowns. “there must be someone you love, right, baek?”

baekhyun stares as chanyeol hums and tries to find a free spot to place his own padlock.

“but there’s no one i love.”

the younger man glances back, and maybe it’s because the sun is glaring too much at this hour, but his eyes are indecipherable. “you can love me,” he says in a volume that’s even lower than usual, and something about his tone makes baekhyun want to believe that it’s a joke.

“what about you, then?” baekhyun asks, and he barely registers the fact that his hands are shaking. “can _you_ love _me_?”

they stand there for seconds that stretch into minutes, and baekhyun tears away when it looks like chanyeol’s not giving him an answer. he latches his padlock onto the fence and steps back, wondering if doing it even makes sense when there is nothing sincere about putting it there. there is no love attached to it, no affection, no emotion; it means nothing to him or to anyone. 

“why did you do that?” chanyeol murmurs, coming over to stand beside baekhyun.

“you told me to,” baekhyun says. “why did you do the dare?”

he doesn’t expect an answer. to be honest, he doesn’t even expect how the question tumbles straight out of his tongue, and baekhyun thinks that chanyeol’s forgotten about that incident by now. he turns around and starts to walk away.

“because…”

baekhyun stops. he looks ahead, at the point where the sun meets the sky.

“because luhan and jongin told me to.”

his teeth dig into his lower lip and he bites back a smile. it’s chanyeol, after all -- it’s not as if there will ever be another answer, as if chanyeol would ever do something like that because of another reason. 

it’s not like baekhyun’s still waiting, anyway.

 

 

 

 

they meet when chanyeol trips and dumps a bucket of sand over baekhyun’s head. baekhyun’s only 8 at the time so he cries because there is sand in his eyes, and chanyeol flails and panics and tries to wipe away the dirt with his own grubby hands. he only succeeds in rubbing red into baekhyun’s tear-stained cheeks, and when baekhyun’s older brother comes running to rescue him, his head is bowed.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, and baekhyun stops crying. 

“it’s okay,” he sniffles a little. “it just hurts.”

chanyeol looks so stricken, then, and he turns to baekhyun’s brother. “i’m really sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt him. i -- please help him feel better.”

“what’s your name?” baekhyun asks before he’s carted off. 

“chanyeol,” chanyeol says, “my name is chanyeol. you’ll be okay, right?”

baekhyun nods and wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. “i’m baekhyun.” 

“baekhyun,” chanyeol repeats. there is still a pout on his lips and guilt shines in his eyes. “i’m really sorry.”

three days later, when summer flits off on the wings of changing seasons, baekhyun finds out that chanyeol is in his class. 

it takes only a heartbeat and a breathtaking smile for the two of them to become best friends.

 

 

 

 

baekhyun says that he’s never been to the coex aquarium so chanyeol decides to take him there next. silence boards the cab along with the two of them, and as baekhyun gazes out the buildings streaking by, he thinks of how he’s supposed to go home soon. there are not many hours left in the day.

chanyeol pays for the entrance fee and they go through the exhibits, wandering down trivial topics like baekhyun’s breakfast for this morning (he says eggs and bacon even though he’d gone straight to the airport without eating anything), chanyeol’s recent project, and the trick they played on their teacher in seventh grade.

they skip the parts like what everyone in america thinks about baekhyun flying to korea on the day of his birthday, and how chanyeol’s supposed to stay in los angeles for two months in order to work with a french programmer, and the fact that their teacher in seventh grade had made them clean the classroom in the light of the setting sun.

baekhyun thinks they spend too much time not talking about the things that really matter.

that’s why, when they reach the undersea tunnel, he doesn’t know why he can’t bring himself to leave. his fingers are pressed against the glass and all baekhyun can think is why he hasn’t come back sooner. he’s had several chances through the years, and now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to go back to america. he’s missed seoul for far too long.

“we were playing spin the bottle,” chanyeol says, out of the blue, and his presence weighs heavily on baekhyun. “luhan and jongin dragged me along because they’d finished dance practice early, and i was coming out of the band room at around the same time. we were just fooling around.”

something pink floats by. “look, it’s a jellyfish,” baekhyun says.

“luhan rigged the first spin so that it would land on jongin,” chanyeol continues. baekhyun can feel him shift from foot to foot. “jongin said truth, and luhan asked him when he was planning to ask kyungsoo out. jongin blushed from head to toe and said that he was going to do it in december, after his dance recital.”

“what kind of fish is that?” baekhyun whispers.

“jongin spun next, and the bottle landed on me. i didn’t want to choose truth because i knew what they were going to ask.” there’s a pause, and baekhyun wonders if it’s supposed to be a meaningful one. “luhan dared me to kiss you.”

“these corals are interesting, don’t you think?” baekhyun thinks he sounds steady. he hopes he sounds steady. 

chanyeol’s hand lifts his face up and they’re looking at each other, and there is a universe of lies and truths and stories left untold in that gaze. there is so, so much, and all of a sudden, baekhyun doesn’t want to hear it. he doesn’t want to know.

“i could have chosen not to do it, baek,” chanyeol says, and there’s something almost like steel in his eyes. 

baekhyun’s lower lip trembles. “yeol, a turtle just passed by.” steady, steady. he is a house built on rock.

in the endless blue of the tunnel, chanyeol leans down and kisses him.

 

 

 

 

baekhyun doesn’t know how long it lasts.

he doesn’t count how many seconds, minutes -- how much time passes with chanyeol’s lips on his, how his fingers settle on the taller man’s chest even though he doesn’t push him away, how air fills his lungs when they break apart to breathe and it feels like it isn’t enough.

chanyeol’s voice is just moments away from shattering when he lets out a fragmented sigh. “i could have chosen not to do that, too.”

 

 

 

 

cycling with chanyeol almost feels like baekhyun’s been dreaming of a memory. the skies are painted in shades of darkness now, and the clouds wear the blanket of stars comfortably tonight. baekhyun’s forgotten the constellations but he hasn’t forgotten how chanyeol’s voice deepens when he talks about orion. the wind ruffles his hair and there are innumerable missed calls blinking across his phone’s screen, but baekhyun wants to be selfish for a few more hours.

they return the bikes and buy food from a street vendor. it’s a makeshift dinner at best but baekhyun thinks it’s more than filling, and he wraps himself in his jacket because it’s growing colder. he and chanyeol talk about how different americans are from koreans, and they laugh over incidents so old that baekhyun’s started thinking they never happened.

“i have to go,” baekhyun says when he glances down at his watch. “i don’t want to miss my flight.”

“of course,” chanyeol says, his hands in his pockets. “we should go hail a cab.”

halfway through the miles leading to incheon international airport, chanyeol’s fingers lace through the spaces in between those of baekhyun. it’s almost natural, the way rough calluses brush against smooth skin, and warmth seeps into baekhyun’s palm. it’s almost like a promise about to be broken.

“baek?” chanyeol says as they near their destination.

baekhyun glances over at him and sees only chanyeol’s profile cutting through the scenery blurring past. he waits.

“luhan didn’t dare me to kiss you,” chanyeol whispers. he squeezes baekhyun’s hand.

baekhyun feels his heart creep down to his stomach, just a tiny inch.

“he dared me…” the younger guy swallows and looks down. 

baekhyun’s not waiting anymore, is he? he hasn’t been waiting for a long time now.

“he dared me to kiss the person i loved.”

 

 

 

 

incheon international airport is blinding. baekhyun and chanyeol stand for a moment, letting everyone else swirl past, their hands still intertwined.

it’s almost time.

“yeol?” baekhyun looks up and chanyeol looks down, and baekhyun knows he’s never going to memorize those features. he never has to internalize every single detail; there is simply no need when he’s done that ten years ago.

“yeah?”

“you never told me what luhan chose,” baekhyun says. “did he pick dare,?”

chanyeol smiles. it’s tiny, and it lacks all the brilliance of his usual grins, but baekhyun thinks he can see happiness peeking out a bit.

“truth,” he says. “he chose truth. luhan’s always been honest about his feelings.”

baekhyun nods. he can accept that. 

“baek,” chanyeol says, and this time he sounds strangled even though his dimple is showing and his smile is bigger this time. “truth or dare?”

baekhyun closes his eyes and brings chanyeol’s knuckles to his lips, where he presses a gentle kiss. “the bottle never landed on me, yeol.”

chanyeol’s grip on his hand tightens. baekhyun opens his eyes.

“but,” baekhyun whispers, “i probably would have chosen dare as well.”

“it was nice seeing you, even for a while,” chanyeol says. he breathes in.

“yeah.”

 

 

 

 

  
it’s been ten years, and baekhyun’s stopped waiting. 

“bye, baek.”

“bye, yeol.”

this time, he is the one who lets go.


End file.
